You Don't Have to Order Rat
by Lizney Wolf
Summary: Dates weren't for Watch girls, Angua thought. Dates were for ladies who could afford prim wigs, and dresses expensive enough to look properly simple....A cute story about Carrot and Angua's first date [under edit for technical errors]
1. beats and forgeries

((This one may go better because it is loosely based on an Rp. I was told to make this disclosure about the fic: "Slightly AU but still adorable" Thanks solarcat! Ok, if you're going to read this, for the love of G-d do it safely! And then if you feel so inclined (which you will!), drop me a review!))

Oh...and: I don't own anything. Don't blame me!

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**You Don't Have to Order Rat**  
_Chapter One: Beats and Forgeries_

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Constable Angua knew her beat. Well, her feet knew it better than she herself did, if you wanted to know truthfully. It was like Commander Vimes had said, your legs grew brains in them so that your own mind could focus on things other than walking. She had laughed at it then, as she had laughed at a lot of things that some of the 'older crew' took so seriously. Yet she was beginning to realize the truth behind the superstitions and the tall tales. And it was definitely the truth now, as she turned the corner sharply from Broad Way to Short without even a thought.  
  
She was scratching the end of her nose with one finger, a habit that came as naturally as her old beat did. It seemed to help--she told herself--with sorting out the smells that met her on her way through the city, because the gods knew there were loads of them. She was so intent upon figuring out what the rank smell that was currently wafting up off the street cobbles was, that she completely missed what Carrot had been saying.  
  
"I'm sorry, Captain?" Angua asked politely, glad to have some company in the thick, evening air.  
  
"I asked if you ever wondered where the word 'policeman' came from?" Carrot said, pounding the cobbles with his boots and looking around for any evil doers, this street seemed to be plum out of them at the moment. Angua had to use all of her will power not to laugh. Carrot was a doll, that was inarguable, but...the things he came up with!  
  
"Not really, no." She said, a bit more shortly than she had intended, and she quickly added: "Sir." She needn't have, as Carrot hadn't caught her disregard for the subject at all. Actually he hardly missed a beat in his step as he began to recount for her the origins of the ancient word.  
  
"Huh. Man of the city... How do you know all this?" Angua asked after a while, breaking the calm silence. Carrot seemed to be full of information, and the moment you thought that his brain couldn't be filled any more, he would spout off another tidbit like, say, the origin of the word 'policeman'. It brought a smile to her face.  
  
"Mr. Stronginthearm has many books that he lets me borrow. So does Dr. Lawn. They're very willing to let me read them. 'Glad that someone's getting use out of those old things.' That's what Mr. Stronginthearm says whenever I come round for another one." So, that was how Carrot spent his days off.  
  
"You're quite a character, sir." She said with a laugh, though it was cut short as the source of the stench she had been smelling reached them. There was a mob of people, jeering, yelling, and cursing, all standing around one very bedraggled looking Mr. Dibbler, huddled against a wall.  
  
"Let's see what is going on with Mr. Dibbler this evening, shall we?" Carrot said, without waiting for an answer from Angua, and shouldering his way through the crowd. Angua was glad of his bulk, and simply sidled along in his wake, giving sharp-toothed grins to people on either side.  
  
"Good marrow, Cut-Me-Own-Throat." Angua said, coming out from behind Carrot and crossing her arms over her breastplate. Dibbler was sitting among a few beat up wooden boxes, straw spilling out of them. He looked up at the two Watchman...ahem...watchpersons, and flinched before he smiled.  
  
"What seems to be the trouble here?" Carrot asked over the din as the people quickly overcame the interruption and began shouting at Dibbler once again.  
  
"These...er... fine people seem to be under the impression that these authentic Lancretian artifacts are, in fact, forgeries," Cut-Me-Own-Throat was saying, while dodging a missile being flung by a person at the back of the crowd. Angua caught a tomato one-handedly as it zipped toward them, and tossed it back behind her.  
  
"Why, Mr. Dibbler," Angua said, almost too sweetly, showing sharp canines, "I see what the problem is. These...fine people were under the impression that you were an honest businessman! Silly them." Yes, she was getting the hang of this Watch business, just as Carrot had said she would on her very first day.  
  
Carrot picked a vase from a wooden crate, turning it over and examining the bottom. His honest forehead creased momentarily and he looked at Dibbler as if shocked by the man's actions.  
  
"It says 'Made in Klatch'." Angua could hardly subdue her laughter when CMOT blanched at Carrot's words. "Now, Mr. Dibbler," the Captain continued, "I must insist that you give these people their money back, at once."  
  
Dibbler obliged, albeit reluctantly, collecting vases and tiles, and dishing out dollars to various patrons. When the money had been returned, however, the crowd continued to stand there, not quite sure what to do, and not accustomed to getting what they asked for.  
  
Angua lifted her arms over her head, "Alright, fine people. You've got your money back, you can be on your way. So please...go...now!" And they shuffled away, as only citizens of Ankh-Morpork can shuffle. Scuttle more like.  
  
She turned back, shaking her head, "'Made In Klatch.' Well, I never Dibbler!" She thumped her elbow on one of Carrot's muscled arms. "Good eye, there, Carrot!" She faltered a bit, and hastily added: "Sir."  
  
"You know, the people of Ankh-Morpork remind me of an animal I read about once. They congregate around a certain place at a certain instant. You just have to know when that instant is going to be." This was what Carrot said, as he watched the crowd drift away into the alleyways of the street. What he THOUGHT on the other hand was: She touched my arm...!  
  
Angua was quite unaware of this, and was busying herself with examining some of CMOT's wares. "May be forgeries, but they're pretty none-the-less. How much will you take for them, Dibbler?"  
  
Dibbler stared at her a moment, as if weighing his options, then spout out hastily, "25 dollars. It's a steal, it is. Half price, but that's because we're friends, eh, Constable?"  
  
Angua looked up from the vase she was holding at gave Dibbler a smile that she hoped would make him squirm. It did. "How about 10 dollars, and I do you the favor of not reporting this to the Historian's Guild?"  
  
"Done!" The money was exchanged and the artifacts packed and rushed off so quickly, that it hardly seemed that Cut-Me-Own-Throat had been there at all. Angua examined the vase, yes it was quite pretty, and pulled a piece of canvas out of the bag hanging at her hip.  
  
Carrot had been quiet for some time, and if Angua had been paying attention she would have known that the Captain had been studying her with bright eyes. Angua?" He said finally as she placed the safely wrapped piece of china into her pouch.  
  
"Yes, Captain?"  
  
He glanced at the clock, "Well...our shift's almost over. We should be heading back to the Watch House." She nodded and went to turn sharply, but Carrot continued speaking. "And I was just wondering...if you hadn't any plans for dinner...."  
  
Angua stopped in her tracks, glanced up at the clock, then at Carrot, hardly trying to hide the smile on her face. "Why, Carrot! Are you asking me on a date?" She laughed as Carrot blushed, yes, he was a doll. "I'd love to."  
  
((ok! More chapters to come. How do you like it?? .))


	2. you don't have to order rat

((Things have been edited and the OCCness should be...lessened. Well...the next chapter should be coming shortly. Wait patiently! If you want to read a new chapter in something, check out To Know True Love, newly updated! All my love, Lizney Wolf))

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**You Don't Have to Order Rat**

_Chapter Two: You Don't Have to Order Rat_ ((It's the title chapter! Yay!))

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Carrot brightened, giving her a wide smile and pulling himself up to full height. "Great! There's this little dwarf delicatessen around the way from the Watch House." He bounced on the balls of his feet as he said this... then his smile faltered a bit. "And...don't worry, you don't have to order rat."

Angua subdued the urge to cringe and laughed faintly. This did well to relieve some of the tension that had been welling up in her chest over the past few drawn out moments.

"I don't have to order rat," she managed, giving Carrot a lopsided smile. "Good to know, good to know." Above them the clocks of the city slowly clanged the hour, the sound (and non-sound) reverberating between Angua's ears.

"Well, then..." she said suddenly, turning sharply and beginning to proceed back down Broad Way. "We should be getting back to the Watch House, eh, Captain?" She sent him a smile over her shoulder.

Carrot stood for a moment, not quite sure what he should do, and not exactly trusting his legs much. Yet he soon followed after her, stumbling a bit more than he normally would have, and kicking up cobbles with his boots.

They neared the Watch House shortly, amid a bit of tension filled silence, which was broken by Carrot saying, "I'll meet you out here, then?" And Angua nodding in return.

Carrot disappeared inside the dimly lit Watch House, ducking a bit to get through the door, while Angua continued to stand in the waning sunlight. She was trying desperately to take a deep breath, but the ability was failing her at the moment.

With a half-sigh, she followed his path and took off across the wooden floor at a fast trot, only slowing when she was safely inside the women's change room.

The wooden door of Angua's locker creaked open and an almost inhuman smell, a weeks worth of unwashed clothes, hit her sharp senses. She grimaced and one of the thoughts that had been flitting over her mind finally came to camp there.

Dates weren't for watch girls, she thought desperately, pulling a pair of crumbled pants out of the depths of her locker. Dates were for girls that could afford prim wigs and dresses expensive enough to look properly simple. She whined almost desperately as a wrinkled shirt followed the pants.

But one thing Angua knew, perhaps the most important thing that she had learned during her time on the Watch, was that there was no arguing with Captain Carrot. If he got a notion in his head, then you'd be damned if that idea didn't become a reality. So...Angua was going on a date. Whether she wanted to or not.

Another cringe as she pulled on the black pants and buttoned up the pale blue shirt. Her hands ran over her stomach and thighs, trying desperately, and failing dreadfully, to smooth out the wrinkles. She gave up, not even looking at her humidity puffed hair, and emerged from the locker room.

Fred Colon was lounging in a high-backed, swivel chair, his feet propped up on the wooden desk in front of him. He had his hands folded tranquilly over his plump stomach, and was looking through a cloud of smoke, coming from Nobby's dog end.

Nobby, hunched on a stool beside the desk, looked up as the women's change room door thumped against the wall and Angua strolled hastily out. Even Colon lifted his head off of the wall it had been leaning on to take a stare at her. She was breathing deeply, her eyes a bit wider than they usually would be, and she knew that she was giving them a show.

Ever since Carcer, a psychopathic murderer who had right ravaged the city for a good few months, had been captured and 'put to justice', there hadn't been much life around the Night Watch. Angua's bit of apprehension was enough to draw the attention of the bored coppers.

"Alright, there, Constable Angua?" Colon's voice was deep and, to Angua's surprise, laced with concern. She gave the two men a smile, and then spread her arms wide.

"How do I look, Sirs?" Nobby was a bit surprised, but recovered quickly, lifting his cigarette in a kind of salute and giving her a nod. She chortled and then her gaze slid toward Colon, who was still taking in her wrinkled use a press...." He said finally, the words joined with an uncertain smile. Angua gave a salute then, smiling at the both and biding them a wordless farewell.

Outside Carrot was standing patiently with his hands folded behind his back, nodding contently to passer by while he waited for Angua to meet him. She stood for a moment in the doorway, staring at the back of his red-haired head.

"Why are you standing in the doorway? I believe Commander Vimes wants to get by." It took a moment for Angua to process the words. She quickly wiped the dim-witted grin off of her face, muttered an apology to the increasingly irritated Vimes behind her, and rushed to stand beside Carrot.

"Don't let me interrupt you, Constable." Vimes was looking at the two of them, from one to the other, and then both at the same time. His helmet was perched on top of his head, giving him a slightly menacing look, not aided by the sword and truncheon hanging at his waist. "Where are you two going?"

Angua sniffed indignantly, straightening her shoulders. "To dinner! Er...Sir." And with a bit of hesitation, she grabbed Carrot's arm and dragged him, with less effort than one would expect, away from the Watch House.

Vimes watched them go, slightly shocked. He stepped back into the Watch House, figuring his shift could wait a few moments more.

"We don't know." Nobby said simply in response to the Commander's dumbfounded expression.

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((Sorry it took me so long, but I began working on yet another fanfic. When it rains, it pours, eh? Alright! Review! Until we meet again, fair fortune be yours!))


	3. sadly, severly shortened

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((I know...I know. The plot bunnies have attacked me! It fits no where in the Watch books...but it's still a good story, right? Argh...lol! Ok...just review. Don't tell me it doesn't fit anywhere! All my love, Lizney Wolf))

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**You Don't Have to Order Rat  
** _Chapter Three: Sadly, Severely Shortened_ ((Yay for alliteration!))

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The Dwarf delicatessen turned out to be a small restaurant adjacent to the Mended Drum. It had regulation height ceilings(#), much to Angua's surprise, because of the fact that it used to be a meat factory.  
  
There was still the dull red smell of meat that hit Angua hard as she walked through the doors. It didn't help her sinuses any either for the overwhelming smell of slaughter to be joined with the sour yellow smell of beer and stale gold. The various furniture--chipped and scared with remnants of bar fights passed--seemed...well...dwarfed by the eight foot ceilings.  
  
Angua was used to the silence that came with her walking through the doors of a place where she was not recognized...and she was equally used to the bustle of introductions and welcomes that came with Carrot walking in behind her. Usually hostile dwarves, covered in various axes and scraps of mended armor, were laughing along happily in dwarf with the Captain who was making jokes that were completely lost on Angua's human (well...sort of) ears.  
  
Yet, although Angua was definitely out of place here, she couldn't help but smile at Carrot's utter familiarity.  
  
"See! There's...well there's bread. I'm sure they have something..." this was Carrot, pulling Angua abruptly out of her reflective musings. She rounded on the counter and looked at the menu, scratched on the wall in what was possibly Dwarf...but definitely not English.  
  
Once again Angua felt the urge to cringe, but she couldn't bring herself to make that sweet smile on Carrot's face vanish.  
  
"I just...I just don't think that...Well...I've never tried Dwarf bread." She finished finally. Carrot nodded knowingly.  
  
"Yes...sometimes it may not agree with a person who's never eaten it before." Carrot nodded matter-of-factly, and Angua looked up, almost expecting there to be a hint of sarcasm written across Carrot's face. There was nothing, except for the slight wrinkles of understanding in his forehead. She couldn't help but be astonished...while reminding herself that she should be used to his absolute sincerity by now.  
  
After a confused couple of moments where more than a few parties joined in, speaking frantic Dwarf, Angua ended up with tepid ketchup soup that she stared at for a moment before attempting to eat.  
  
Carrot was chomping happily on fried rat drenched in a questionable new brownish sauce that promised itself to be even better than ketchup. Angua couldn't bring herself to ask if it had lived up to its promise.  
  
"So, Constable-..."  
  
"Angua."  
  
"Right. Erm...Angua." She couldn't help noticing the lovely way his cheeks pinked when he said it. "Did you have a good day?"  
  
Angua cleared her throat and looked up from her clumpy soup. Good gods...he actually wanted to know! It wasn't just a rhetorical question to fill the space. Bugger it if he didn't actually want to know how her bloody day had been...  
  
Suddenly she found that she didn't know what to answer.  
  
Finally she decided on: "No better than yesterday. Certainly less eventful but," she patted the lump in her pack, "I got a lovely Klathian vase out of it, eh?" That was when all hell broke loose.  
  
Later on it was discovered that there had been a foreign dwarf in the restaurant, whittling away his evening hours by gorging on beer and food. He'd been too ornery to involve himself in any songs about gold, which was definitely a bad sign, and instead busied himself with listening to the conversation of others. Little did anyone know that he was listening for something very specific.  
  
All that Angua knew was that before she had even finished her sentence, the seemingly calm atmosphere around them turned to one of noise and insanity.  
  
There were axes flying everywhere, apparently from no direction whatsoever, some burying themselves in the wall over Carrot and Angua's table.  
  
Carrot was on his feet, shouting something livid and erratic in Dwarf that was being lost on the shrieking crowd. Angua was on top of the table, trying to figure out where the bright yellow smell that had followed the axe originated.  
  
She was about to Change so she might be able to take control of the situation, when she noticed something that was traveling towards her at an amazing speed.  
  
"Oh shi-"Was all she could get out before the tankard clonked her right between her fiery eyes, and suddenly the floor was coming up to meet her staggeringly fast.

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#there really was no document anywhere that decreed how high your ceilings had to be, the Patrician had made sure of that. However, there was a person—his real name is of no importance—that was hired out by architects to see if their ceilings were the correct height. If he didn't crack his head on the door frame then all systems were go. He was commonly known as Knobby Head Fred.

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((I think that went well...except for my painful 'Knobby Fred' joke. lol! Sorry it's taken me so long! Please forgive me! The updates should be getting more frequent since I'm out of school for the summer #score#! Review pweeze!))


	4. rendevouz and realization

((This is the last chapter!. I warn you that I feel wordy this evening... Yay! This will be my first completed fanfic! –sigh- I'm so proud! lol...ok: Review! –All my love,-Lizney Wolf!! Btw: If you don't get the first thing Angua says, go back and read the end of ch3))

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**You Don't Have to Order Rat**  
_Chapter Four: Rendezvous and Realization Part 1_

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"-t!" Angua's voice broke the utter silence. She hadn't opened her eyes yet, but was making the usual assessment, assuring herself that she still had all the same parts that she had fallen asleep with. The only problem was that she didn't really remember falling asleep...exactly. The last she remembered was the darkness that came after a projectile tankard struck her between the eyes. Her surroundings hadn't really improved much as far as she could tell in the darkness behind her eyelids. It was at this time that she decided to ask the question that was expected of her.  
  
"Where am I?" And then she opened her eyes, and let out a slow breath of air.  
  
The room around her was indeed dark, but a waning moon shining through the window let in a silver thread of light by which she could see the outline of her surroundings. Really...there wasn't much to see. The bed in which she lay was directly under the window, which was open and furnished with torn, faded curtains that looked like they had been there for years. Directly across the room was a small writing desk with a short candle burning on its crowded top. And seated in front of it was a uniform-less Carrot with his head in his hands.  
  
The muscles in his arms were accentuated by the flickering candlelight. He was clad only in his undershirt and a pair of shorts that Angua had never seen before. Her eyes followed the line of his forearm up to his face, realizing it was much paler than usual behind his hands.  
  
She tried to sit up, failed horribly, and decided that her head would probably stay intact if she laid still. "Carrot? Where am I?"  
  
There was a scraping that let Angua know that Carrot had shot up from his desk with a ferocity that sent his chair a few feet back. The next thing she knew, there was a seven-foot, ashen faced dwarf standing over her. Her mouth twitched, but she didn't dare smile in the face of Carrot's-- undoubtedly adorable--distress.  
  
"You've been out for hours..." Carrot's voice was thick and sleepy; there were circles under his eyes. Angua's smile vanished, and she shifted guiltily as she slowly realized exactly where she was. "We're in the Watch House." He blushed faintly, "This is my room."  
  
There was the faint, albeit unpleasant, smell of the Watch House drifting from under the door...but in the room it was strictly the musty, pleasant smell of Carrot, she was surprised that she hadn't noticed it the moment she awoke.  
  
She was about to say that she was sorry that she had taken up his bed for so long, when she moved her legs under the sheets...and realized that her pants, wrinkled as they may be, were no longer anywhere on her person. Her eyes widened threateningly and she looked under the covers. She was wearing nothing but an oversized shirt that reached all the way to her knees.  
  
"Wha-..." She glanced up and noticed that Carrot was no longer pale, but had gone a dangerous shade of burgundy.  
  
"Cheery!" He blurted, pulling the chair from his desk up to the side of the bed. "Cheery insisted on changing you...she didn't want you to be uncomfortable." He averted his eyes even though she was fully covered, and gave a kind of embarrassed smile.  
  
"Oh!" Angua's smile had returned, especially at seeing the delightful awkwardness that made him fidget nervously. "Oh, Carrot that's fine! I just thought...well...." She blushed as well now, "Never mind..."  
  
Carrot cleared his throat once...twice...three times until he was able to say, a few octaves higher than his usual voice "Are you comfortable?"  
  
Angua crawled, wincing as her head swam with a new wave of pain, into a sitting position, leaning her back on the wallpapered wall behind her. "Yeah...yeah I'm fine." She gave a weak grin, "Sorry I took up your bed. You look exhausted."  
  
Suddenly his back straightened and his eyes widened to the point of forced alertness. "No, not at all!" She could tell she was lying...and she was actually--for lack of a better term--...impressed. If there was one anomaly that struck Angua the most when she entered the Watch, it was the fact that Captain Carrot did not lie. He was too honest, too genuine, too...Carrot! He just wasn't built for it; even now there was the hint of a yawn trembling at the sides of his mouth that he was trying to hide with a look of severe determination.  
  
"You can't lie to a werewolf, Carrot. I can smell the tire on you..." She liked the way he glanced up at her in astonishment while the yawn burst from his lungs.  
  
He glanced at his hands, "Oh...right. Well—"  
  
"Come here, Carrot." Angua patted a place on the bed beside her, her smile growing with a girlish glint in her eye that she really didn't intend.  
  
Carrot swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing threateningly, and crawled onto the bed, toward the place that she patted. The worn springs in the bed groaned their protest as he made his way across and were only silenced when he was leaning on the wall beside Angua, his hands folded in his lap.  
  
"You're vase is gone." Carrot said suddenly, not looking down at her, but instead becoming very interested in staring at his own knees. It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about, and when she did she was utterly confused.  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"The bustle in the bar," Carrot glanced over at her forehead, and Angua realized that there must be quite a lump there. "Someone overheard you talking about the vase...apparently he was a collector of rare Klathian artifacts."  
  
"I didn't know there were any 'rare Klathian artifacts'."  
  
"He seemed to think so.... He was the one that threw the tankard...once you were knocked out he stole your pack and ran." Carrot glanced up again, "I couldn't catch him..."  
  
Angua, her head level with Carrot's shoulder, leaned a few inches so her ear came into contact with his bare arm. He was warm and comfortable...she leaned further.  
  
"You tried to catch him?" Her voice was rather faint, and she watched the trail of her breath ruffle the front of his shirt. He seemed to give a faint shiver before continuing his account.  
  
"Of course! He was breaking a whole book of rules, for one thing. Assault on An Officer of The Law, Theft of A Personal Belonging, The Tankard Chucking Act of 1685..." Carrot's voice drifted into nothingness for a moment. "And...well...he hurt you..."  
  
Angua felt him shift, and was pleasantly surprised to find one of his muscled arms coming around her shoulders. He hesitated for one tense moment...and then pulled her gently toward him. She settled into his bulk, her face pressed into his chest. She brought her knees up under her, snuggling into his warmth.  
  
"You're sweet, Carrot," Angua said, the simplicity of the word not even summing up the thoughts that were currently racing through her mind. Her face tilted upward, and she grasped his chin in her long, thin fingers.  
  
He seemed surprised, put didn't resist as she pulled his face toward her own. Just as their lips were about to meet...their foreheads met instead.  
  
Angua fell back with a groan, clutching at the white-hot pain in her forehead. Her head hadn't felt this wretched since...well there really wasn't anything like being assaulted with a chucked tankard. Despite her utter discomfort she started to laugh faintly. Carrot began to apologize, but she placed a hand firmly over his mouth.  
  
His eyes were wide and fearful when she looked up at him, one hand over his mouth, the other still clutching her forehead. She shook her head as a muffled apology escaped through her fingers.  
  
"Don't, Carrot, it's fine." Her voice was laced with mirth, and she smiled once more before she slowly lowered both hands.  
  
This time...much more carefully...when she pulled towards him, their lips did indeed meet. Her head clouded, thankfully, because a thought was lurking at the back of her mind that she just didn't want to deal with right now.  
  
The springs groaned once again, with the weight of two bodies making there way into a position of the horizontal persuasion. All unnecessary clothing, which was most of it, really, was soon discarded onto the floor, and Carrot grew very surprised at just how close two people could become.

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((since this is going to be the last chapter, I'm going to make it a two- parter! Enjoy...))

_Chapter Four: Rendevous and Realization Part 2_

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The next day dawned bright and oddly crisp for a summer day in Ankh- Morpork. The people of the Discworld were feeling generally genial and the sun was pretty much bringing out the best in everyone...even Mr. Vimes.  
  
He'd set out early that morning, after kissing his wife goodbye, safely hidden from prying eyes in the curtained hall beside their kitchen. With the prospect of a regal dinner that evening, Vimes felt that he should make the most out of his hours of freedom that he found in the Watch House.  
  
When he stepped through the doors, there was an unusual hustle and bustle that came with people actually getting their work done. He was oddly impressed, slipping his helmet from his head and staring around the busy room with a feeling he usually didn't have for his crew: admiration.  
  
"The world is renewed!" Came the unmistakably dutiful voice of Constable Visit. The man was leaning out a back window, apparently ignoring the odd smell that wafted from the river and into the back garden of Pseudopolis Yard. "The gods must have slept well last night."  
  
"I'm glad someone did..." A voice drifted down the stairs, soon joined by the squat figure of one Cheery Littlebottom. Her usual relaxed morning demeanor was replaced by something that Vimes was surprised to see. She seemed rather...flustered actually.  
  
"Did you check up on Constable Angua?" Vimes asked, uncertain concern lacing his voice. Unless Vimes had misread Cheery's surprised expression, he assumed that something must be wrong with the Houses' local patient.  
  
"Oh, yes...yes I did." Cheery's voice twinkled with the hint of a giggle and the skin behind her beard turned a lovely shade of magenta.  
  
Vimes was lost. "And...?"  
  
Cheery actual tittered a bit, trying to compose herself behind her hand. The color in her face deepened the bright red blush that she had painted on that morning, and it helped the pink lipstick blend in a little better.  
  
Vimes huffed nervously and made to go up the stairs. He felt something tug at the back of his shirt and he turned sharply.  
  
"I wouldn't go up there if I were you sir." Cheery said as seriously as she could while still giggling incessantly. "You might want to give them a few moments to " And Cheery lost it, slapping both hands over her mouth and making a break for the women's change room.  
  
Realization dawned across Vimes' face as he saw Cheery disappear through the thick oak door, and he felt his face grow hot as well. Nobby made his way around one of the desks to his Commander's side.  
  
"Should I go get 'er, sir? Her shift starts in about five minutes, it does." Vimes was about to explain to Nobby just what Corporal Littlebottom had meant, and why exactly they should leave Miss Angua alone, when he looked down into the little man's face. The glint in Nobby's squinchy eyes told Vimes that he had understood exactly what was going on.  
  
"Erm...no...well. They'll come down when they're...ready. Yes."  
  
"But I could go wake 'em, sir!" Nobby's voice was a bit too excited for Vimes' liking.  
  
"Nobby?"  
  
"Yes sir!"  
  
"Don't you have something to...go steal."  
  
Nobby looked utterly disappointed, but saluted dutifully. "Right you are, sir."

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((The end! Yay. Finally, after a few months of working on it, it's finished! Review please; tell me if it's all you hoped it would be! –grin-- ))


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